Treasure Hunt
by ThisStatementIsFalse
Summary: Somehow, the RED team end up running aimlessly around their base in search of the greatest treasures in the world- hats! Also, a drag race. Fifth spinoff in the Misadventures of the RED Team series


**Hey guys!**

**Been a while, I know; school does that :p**

**Anyhow here's a oneshot, hope you like it!**

**I don't own TF2, praise Valve for that**

* * *

~RED BASE~

For the first time in a long time, quiet veiled the RED base. The sun treaded fiercely over the crooked building; only Sniper of the nine mercs would even consider going outside in this heat.

So, with the weather acting up, the bored team were confined to the central rec room. Last they had nothing to do, they started (and severely regretted) the Dare Games- Heavy made sure to stay as far as possible from Scout to prevent it from happening again. The large man was currently crammed against the back, faded red wall, beside Medic.

The doctor meanwhile frowned at the wallpaper, reading 'I like hats' scrawled in felt pen. He made a mental note to take care of it later as the Engineer pulled out his trusty guitar and gave the mercs a little background music. Demo hummed along drunkenly to a different tune.

In the corner, Spy occupied his usual chair and facepalmed at Soldier's attempts of Solitaire at the table. He also appeared to be playing snap. With himself.

That left Pyro, who evidently wasn't in the room. Observant as always, Sniper noted this. Quiet as always, he wasn't the one to mention it.

Eventually the moderately-sane Spy made the observation;

"Where has Pyro wandered off to?" the Frenchman asked in a monotone that suggested he really didn't care.

Scout started, finally registering the lack of his friend. The young RED full-on launched himself off the couch, step one in the process of his overreaction. Everyone cowered in preparation.

"Aw man we gotta find him _what if the BLUs got Pyro_ GUYS WHAT D'WE DO!?" he screeched in one breath, accent thickening by the syllable. Pyro chose that very moment to trot casually into the room. "Oh jeez, hey Py. I thought y'were gone." Scout nonchalantly shuffled back to his chair and sat down.

Pyro paused to briefly reflect on whatever just happened, then returned to its cheery demeanour. An undecipherable but clearly very excited sentence muffled its way through Pyro's gasmask filter, to which the team merely gave a collective blank blink.

Consulting something only it could see over one shoulder, Pyro changed tact and pulled out a notepad from seemingly nowhere. Scribbling quickly with an exaggerated flourish, Pyro wrote a short paragraph and daintily plonked in on the table.

Slowly the eight others leaned in to read the oddly frilly script. A couple of the men finished and immediately blanched, drawing away. The slower, frankly less intelligent mercs were taking their sweet time so Engy hesitantly voiced it for them;

"Uh… 'I made a treasure hunt for you guys'," the Texan swallowed anxiously, "'First clue is in the garage. Friendly friends'. Oh God."

Everyone exchanged horrified glances, except for Sniper who offered nothing more than a half hearted shrug.

"And… why would w'do that?" He slightly raised the brim of his akubra to address Pyro. The bubbly pyromaniac retrieved its pencil and added 'The prizes are hats!'

Cartoonish grins lit up the mercs' features instantly, and the Demoman bolted for the door;

"To the garage, lads!" he cried, followed by the childish team gleefully. Scout hurriedly overtook, trademark speed and impatience fuelling his stride. Medic was mere steps behind, subtly prepping his medigun as history suggested _someone _was bound to get hurt.

Seriously; Soldier once managed to hurt himself whilst standing still. That's another story.

"Doctor, you won't need medigun!" Heavy assured his teammate, "We are more – what is word – _responsible _now!" The Russian proceeded to smack his forehead on a doorframe.

"Ja, Heavy, I can see zhat…" Medic replied dryly. As he and Heavy caught up, arriving in the garage, the German trained the medigun on his friend's skull injury. They abruptly noticed everybody standing to attention, Soldier pacing proudly in front of the line.

Apparently he didn't know that Archimedes was sitting quite comfortably on his helmet. Sniper and Scout were furiously trying not to smirk.

"Right, maggots!" Soldier affectionately (?) called to the assembled REDs, "Our mission is both SIMPLE and AWESOME. _Everybody move out let's find this clue!_"

Poor innocent RV hid in the far, dreariest corner as the mercs scattered like hat-obsessed roaches. Pyro, pleased as… well, ever, waited by the door as its buddies ran around searching, kicking up dust and tripping over scrap metal in their haste.

It wondered if they should have turned the lights on.

So much for that though; splinters of dull glass rained from the broken bulbs, landing with light tinkles, because Scout decided to check the rafters for the clue. All the rafters.

"OH I FOUND IT!" Demo yelled, dodging some glass shards, "I TOTALLY FOUND IT."

The team immediately flocked him, and he showed them a Mann Co key with a nametag attached. Once again, Engy read it out,

"'Mah first is in kitchen but not in Pyro, mah second's in kitchen but not in Spy, mah third's in kitchen but-"

"LET'S JUST GO TO THE DAMN KITCHEN!" Soldier demanded, not liking how kitchen no longer sounded like a word. A bit of a rammy in the hallway followed.

Hang on, is rammy a Scottish only thing? I think so. Sorry other guys.

Anyway, there was a _noisy fight _on the way to the kitchen, the mercs smashing several windows along the way and on one occasion falling out of them. Simultaneously. It was quite spectacular.

Eventually, against all odds, Heavy arrived first. Then again it _was _the kitchen; it's only natural for him to hustle. The others crammed through the doorway after him, yelling semi-coherently about hats and Sandviches.

"GUYS IF I HAVE BONK WE COULD FIND THIS THING FASTER!"

"NO BONK FOR YOU SCOUT."

"WE ARE ABUSING THE CAPS LOCK!"

"YEAH TOAST!"

What. Derping out for a moment, the team quietened down and got to searching. By unspoken agreement they split into groups by their classes; the offense threw open the fridge and rummaged through there; the defence practically pounced under the stained dining table; and the support ran around opening every single storage unit.

Pyro didn't really know what to do, so it sat in the sink.

Sniper and Spy made the mistake of opening cupboards at head height at speed, successfully knocking each other out. Heavy got stuck under the table and soon resembled a giant turtle with poor Engineer clinging to the 'shell' for dear life. The Demoman and Medic careered into each other and fell over, causing a chain reaction in which Scout got trapped inside the fridge.

Soldier however casually checked the bread bin to find a Mann Co crate.

"Get that key OVER HERE MAGGOTS!" he commanded, holding the box up for all to see. Demoman all but sailed across room and jammed the key into the crate; everyone crowded around to see what was inside.

Another key.

Well, seemed like the hunt wasn't over yet. This time Medic skimmed the name tag (which incidentally had been tied to the key with a neat little bow) and sighed;

"Ve're going to have to actually think about zhis one." Dubious, the team read it.

'The bowels of the earth'.

WELL THAT'S A LITTLE CRYPTIC!

"Y'know…" Sniper began, "That sounds kinda familiar." The mercs had a few internal musings like 'Come to mention it' and wondered just who they might have heard that from. Couldn't have been one of the team, they soon decided, for they lacked all kinds of intelligence. Spy suddenly slammed a fist on the table, as he did every time he remembered something. Or was pissed off and near a table.

"Mentlegen! Isn't that one of the things Medic's turret says?"

"Aw yeah, somethin' about his namesake," Demo agreed, also punching the table. Because he was drunk and it looked fun, that's why. Heavy slowly pieced it together;

"So clue is where Prometheus is?" Fortunately he didn't hit the table- that was why they needed to go to that department store from Misadventures of the RED Team 2 for a new table last time. The Engineer started in horror when he recalled where he had last seen the little Aperture turret;

"…Guess we're goin' to mah workshop then…" He thought about the tidy space and just how untidy it was about to become. Yelling freaking war cries, the mercs pelted out the door and in the direction of the 'bowels of the earth'.

Silence fell over the kitchen for a moment.

"Fellas…? I'm still in the fridge… Guys? Ha ha, y-you can let me out now… HELP!"

Teddy Roosebelt and Prometheus huddled in one corner of the workshop, cowering from the batcrap crazy mercenaries on their hat-hunting quest. Teddy had 'borrowed' a small wrench of Engy's and was in the process of attempting to build a miniature sentry for defence purposes. Prometheus happened not to mention he was perfectly capable of shooting the crap out of everyone if he wanted to.

Nevertheless the two of them were blatantly ignored, because the team were busy throwing tools all over the place (the wall repair costs would be about the same as firing Sasha for twelve seconds) and generally making a big mess. Even the Engineer got caught up in the moment and searched away with reckless abandon.

All in all, a fun – if destructive – time.

Pyro found itself forgetting where exactly the next clue was hidden. Had it even remembered to hide a clue in here? Hm. The RED stood thoughtfully in the corner and whistled to itself, receiving some backup singing from Balloonicorn and Reindoonicorn as they frolicked overhead.

Do YOU believe in magic?

In the end it only took an accidental success to find the clue. A flying crowbar which Engy evidently possessed clonked Sniper upside the head, and upon falling to the somewhat-oily ground the support class saw a wooden crate beneath a workbench.

Giddiness had the funny ability of rendering Sniper unable to walk; he army crawled under the bench and slid out backwards with the crate in tow, summoning the others,

"Get over here, wankas!" Obviously he meant that in the nicest possible way. The mercs rushed around and dove to join him on the floor, including a grouchy-looking Scout covered in food stuff. The prone REDs watched intently as Medic unlocked the crate, praying to deities they may-or-may-not believe in that they weren't about to see another key.

They were disappointed.

"_ARGH_," was Soldier's exasperation noise, "where's the haaaats?" Spy mimicked his tone;

"Read the cluuue, maybe you'll find ouuuut," he laughed at his own mockery until making those funny snorting noises. Some awkward stares later, Engy read it out because that was kinda his thing,

"'Rearranged boredom'. _Say what?_" The team clambered into sitting positions. "Do we have to… be bored backwards?" Scout removed a banana peel from his head – they keep bananas in the fridge? – and thought aloud;

"So we have to go freakin' crazy?" Engy nodded slowly,

"In theory…"

…

"AWWWW YEAH!" The mercs cried, shooting off to different corners of the room and bouncing off the walls. Unfortunately they forgot about the 'impact equals ouchie' law, so their happy cheers turned into screams of, "MEDIC!"

"…So that wasn't our _best _plan…" Sniper stated bluntly. Engy took out the key again, rereading the nametag. Everybody considered some other possibilities. How exactly could one 'rearrange boredom'?

Well, of course I know. _You_ might. In fact, I'm very impressed if you do know. Hats for you.

Nevertheless, the REDs didn't know what it meant. Except of course Pyro. But they _had _to find the treasure! Time to call in the big guns. The guys flocked into a circle, and they began to pray to the highest power they knew.

"SAXTON HAAAALE!" The man himself bellowed, arriving via the floorboards. The dinkum Aussie bloke surveyed the awed mercenaries. Oh no, it was these idiots again.

"Mr Hale, we need your help!" Heavy begged with his best puppy-dog expression. The Engineer offered up the key, and Saxton skimmed the label.

"OBVIOUSLY, it's an anagram," he deduced in a matter of milliseconds, "But you'll never work it out. I killed all the perverts on all the anagram websites when they did that thing with my name."

Collective team blink.

"Well… I'm gonna go. SAXTON HALE!" _PROPERTY DAMAGE!_ Saxton disappeared through the roof. That just happened. The team shuddered – Soldier saluting in the direction of the sky – and turned their attention back to the clue.

An anagram of 'boredom', eh? Judging by the fact the majority of the guys had no idea what an anagram was, the chances of success were less than spectacular; but some of them had an idea at least.

"Red…" Demo began dramatically, "moob."

"Bedroom, ya twit." Engy said behind a facepalm. Enlightened, everyone scarpered from the destroyed workshop and hustled toward the stairs. Oh wow, it only took six previous stories, but they finally know the layout of their own base.

~SECOND FLOOR~

Nine doors sat in wait, each decorated with the nine class emblems. Nine barriers, defending the rooms of nine bloodthirsty teenagers-at-heart mercenaries. NINE.

One team huddle later, the mercs made a plan; check their own rooms, then first one finished look in Pyro's. Let's go in class order so I don't get confused.

~SCOUT'S ROOM~

Scout was always a bit weird. In more ways than one. Some days he would have a sudden compulsive need to make his room the neatest damn room there ever did be and other days he preferred to just trash it. This week featured messy Scout.

The merc took one step through his door and promptly vanished up to his chest in random crap, namely Bonk cans and miscellaneous... crap.

He didn't seem to notice and casually clattered along through the rubbish, eventually clawing his way onto the bed. Whew. Where to begin? None of the bedrooms were particularly nicely furnished; that particular shopping trip was being saved for a future spinoff. However they did own wardrobes, so that seemed like an idea.

Scout dolphin dived into the sea of mostly-unidentified mess and resurfaced in front of the cupboard half a second later. He foolishly threw the thing open with nary a care in the world.

"OH JEEZ." Said the pile of baseball memorabilia, red shirts, and yet more Bonk. No wait, Scout said that. I see what happened now.

Let's see how everybody else is getting on while he digs his way outta there.

~SOLDIER'S ROOM~

Soldier's room was quite bland in comparison. Everything was either team-colours-red or related to weaponry. An entire wall was dedicated to shovels.

Nevertheless, that left little space to search. He crawled under the bed but only found his emergency-back-up-of-a-back-up shotgun taped under there. The merc shuffled back out and thought for a moment.

Maybe, just maybe, Pyro had managed the hide the clue _inside _one of rocket launchers. If that was the case, Soldier would need to check every single one. Shrugging because that was such a great idea, he picked up the ol' Original and turned to the wall.

"Wall, suck it up and take one for the hats."

BOOM.

~DEMO'S ROOM~

The Demoman's room was, quite predictably, more of a bar than anything else. The wardrobe, on its side, made for a charming little table with doors that had a tendency to smash unsuspecting drunk guys' shins. Ach, well.

Demo sauntered in and promptly tripped over nothing, bonking his forehead off the bed frame. With that he forgot all about finding the clue and started drinking.

~HEAVY WEAPONS GUY'S ROOM~

Heavy was the only merc to own another piece of furniture; and that was Sasha's smaller bed beside his. The minigun slept contentedly there at the moment. Heavy hummed one of his lullabies as he got to searching his closet, pushing aside a few shirts and several boxes of two hundred dollar custom-tooled cartridges.

Well. The clue didn't seem to be there. That left few places to look. The only thing Heavy could think of was the light overhead, and honestly he wasn't sure why he thought of that.

Regardless, the merc casually reached up and tugged lightly on the shade. Notice, 'lightly' cannot be taken lightly and should be taken more heavily when in regards to Heavy. Yes.

CRACK.

~ENGINEER'S ROOM~

Again, Engy's room wasn't a typical living space- it more resembled a smaller scale workshop, complete with a minisentry acting as a beside lamp/security guard. Careful not to disturb anything, Engy searched under his makeshift desk, in his guitar case, behind and in his cupboard, but there was no clue to be found.

Well, that seemed to be a _practical _problem. Pyro had strange abilities; the box could be in a wall or something! A real problem.

"Ah never asked for this," Engy stated, snapping on a pair of Deus Specs. He nommed an energy bar, turned to the wall, and suddenly his gunslinger appeared on his arm.

Time to show dat wall who is da boss.

~MEDIC'S ROOM~

Everybody was afraid to enter Medic's room.

It resembled a mediclinic/dove sanctuary of half pristine whiteness and half suspicious red stains. Kinda like Archimedes. As doctor mosied in, said dove fluttered onto his shoulder and cooed softly.

"Vas Pyro in here, Archimedes?" Medic asked absently. Through some telepathic connection the dove told him 'no', which left the merc some time to kill while he pretended to look for the clue.

Hm. There was always the 'let's see if we can make the Quick-Fix overheal shall we' experiment. Medic slowly picked up the currently unstable little medigun. What could go wrong?

~SNIPER'S ROOM~

Sniper scarcely slept in his room these days, preferring to stick with good ol' RV. As a result, the place remained pretty much as it was when it was built, though with an added build up of dust.

Sniper shrugged indifferently and tried the wardrobe. The thing hadn't been opened in the better part of… well, eternity, and it actually resisted a little.

Sniper gave what he considered a polite tug on the handle, only to blink in surprise when he pulled the door clean off.

"Huh." Sniper deadpanned. He awkwardly placed the door in the corner and turned instead to the window. Y'know, maybe Pyro hid the crate above the window- _outside_, the crafty bugger.

Accepting that as a possibility, Sniper heaved the window up and clambered outside.

~SPY'S ROOM~

Spy had a neat wee bedroom, because headcanon dictated as such. His bed was in the immaculate state he left it, so Pyro probably hadn't put the clue there.

He sifted inattentively through his suit collection, but the wardrobe seemed to be clear also. Spy, bored, glanced around his living space.

"I imagine the other mercenaries are in the process of making stupid, sure-to-backfire plans and leaving them on small cliffhangers," he mused. The support class thought for a moment. "I suppose I should do the same."

It was time for Spy to exercise his imagination. He could do anything, be anything, _dream anything_. Bam, you just got punched in the feels.

But nah, Spy just loosened his tie a little and fired about the place randomly with his revolver.

~OUTSIDE THOSE NINE DOORS OF NINE~

Pyro was waiting in the hallway, anxious for its buddies to reappear. The following would probably be a slight less disturbing if viewed in Pyroland actually.

~PYROLAND IT IS~

Little Scout was the first RED to arrive. Bit of an understatement really, 'arrive', because he more flew out his door, propelled by a wave of brightly coloured objects that catapulted him into the wall.

Soldier then collapsed along with an ex-wall into the hallway, rainbow fireworks booming all around.

Of all the unexpected things Demo could have done nobody foresaw that he would just casually walk out of his room, contentedly sipping fruit juice.

All four of Heavy's room's walls tumbled inward, making a pile of building blocks with the merc sitting blankly in the centre, clutching a light bulb in bewilderment.

The Engineer's fist appeared through the wall beside his door, and the wee RED hopped through the gap quite happily, expression kinda cutely covered by an oversized pair of shades.

Meanwhile Medic, shrouded in sparkly red stars, also crashed through his bedroom door, pursued in a friendly game of tag by some sort of strange contraption.

…

Well, no Sniper then.

Spy though suddenly burst from his door, wearing a sombrero and firing off two sticky-dart guns everywhere.

~LET'S GET THE HELL OUT OF PYROLAND~

Various shouts implying 'Pain. Pain. Pain. PAIN!' were heard for a while after that. Half of the mercs were trapped under something or another, and Spy was too busy shooting at everything, Demo was busy drinking, and Engy was doing the Safety Dance, so they couldn't help either.

Medic disentangled himself from the angry Quick-Fix and dragged himself back into his room to fetch the hopefully-functional medigun.

Pyro meanwhile set to saving the mercs from the results of their own stupidity. On the way, it happened to pass by Sniper's open door.

"ARGHHHHH!" Oh look; there he was. Falling past the window. Alarmingly quickly.

Pyro shrugged and started digging Heavy out of the rubble, ignoring the sickening 'crunch' sound in the distance. Dear sweet Snipey.

When Medic returned it didn't take long for the team to regain their feet and gather their shreds of dignity. Engy left to set up the respawn teleporter for Sniper while the others made their way into Pyro's room, hoping to finally find that gosh darn clue.

~PYRO'S ROOM~

A range of theories existed about the appearance of Pyro's bedroom. You've probably read at least one fanfic where it's all fire and one where it resembles a young kiddie's room.

Both interesting guesses.

And now you're worried I'm not going to tell you. Mind games. But I am. SO CALM DOWN.

Anywho, the six REDs strode confidently in, somehow all fitting at the same time.

"What in America is _this_!?" Soldier demanded.

"How did you get a penguin in here…?" Medic sounded mystified.

"And why are we floating?" Heavy asked, bumping his head on the roof.

Pyro's room was… everything. Literally a lazily spinning vortex of everything that existed. The team felt a tad uncomfortable as they began to glide in circles around the room. Oddly enough, the red walls were still there and looked normal, but the floor was just gone.

The experience seemed quite stationary to Demoman, who calmly dodged an inflatable dinosaur and started swimming in search of the clue.

"Hey fellas, how's it go- _oh God what is this._" Engy appeared at the doorway and immediately blanched. Sniper, standing behind him, paused for a moment then merely walked off.

The sight of Heavy hovering in midair wearing fairy wings must have just been too much.

At that moment, Spy popped out of a giant cake and flew back toward the team;

"Found it." He said shakily, producing a Mann Co crate. "…I saw things."

With that, the nine mercs reunited outside Pyro's room and uneasily shut the door. A good fifteen minutes passed while they attempted to process exactly what had happened there. Then ten more.

Eventually the REDs returned to the central room and plonked their behinds onto the chairs. Spy placed the crate on the small table, gesturing for Engy to have at it.

Everyone stared on with bated breath, wondering if it was over, if this crate contained the hats they so greatly desired. Engy slid the key into the lock, glanced around the team, then turned it with a defiant, definitive _click._

To reveal another key.

"AW FOR THE LOVE OF GOD." Soldier pulled out his shotgun in rage and shot the ceiling a couple of times. "No I will NOT calm down!" he proclaimed, before anyone could tell him to.

"Let's just read th' clue, shall we?" Demo suggested brightly, plucking the new key from the box and checking the nametag. "A'right… 'Break the record'. That it?"

Yup. That was it. 'Break the record'.

But just when it seemed like the REDs would have to hale for Hale again, Engy, Sniper and Scout remembered what _the record_ was.

~FLAAAASHBAAAACK~

The three mercs in question were, as usual, having an argument. That's pretty much all the mercs do when they're not kicking ass or getting their asses kicked.

Either way, somehow they got to wondering what was fastest; Sniper's RV or Engy's truck. The topic there being 'speed' it didn't take long for Scout to get involved and insist he could run faster than the both of them.

And besides calling mythbusters, there was only one way to find this out.

_Drag race._

~LOL I DON'T EVEN~

"We gotta break the record!" Sniper, Engy and Scout cried simultaneously, disregarding all forms of safety and launching themselves down the stairs. Not entirely certain why they did that, Heavy decided to go ahead and do the same thing.

"HEAVY YOU ARE ZHE REASON I NEED ZHIS MEDIGUN SO MUCH." Medic yelled over the crunch of an unfortunate amount of breaking bones. He trudged down the stairs and healed the four morons, then the team headed toward the garage again.

Apparently things were explained along the way because by the time they arrived everyone was chanting 'Drag race, drag race' with clichéd airpunches.

"RV," Sniper summoned dramatically, and the van dutifully drove herself to meet him.

"Truck," Engy tried, but when several seconds passed with no results he just walked over to it sulkily. They both headed out the garage in their respective vehicles, and the team followed.

Now, Soldier had _one _job; rocket jump a quarter of a mile away, and wait there for the racers. He jumped four miles away instead. Medic also had _one _job. He was supposed to be on standby for medical attention, but;

"Oh God, is Prometheus wearing a hat? ZHAT'S TOO ADORABLE!" he abruptly vanished and reappeared in a corner, surrounded by all the pocket buddies and his turret. He wouldn't move for several minutes.

In the meantime, Scout, truck and RV lined up for the drag race. The Demoman placed a sticky bomb in front of them and sat on it, because they didn't have one of those flag things and this was way more fun anyhow.

For some reason Spy had called dibs on counting down and stood on Heavy's head, yelling;

"ONE!"

The engines revved all epic-like.

"TWO!"

Scout farted.

"THREE!"

Demo triggered the sticky, unceremoniously launching himself into the air and starting the race. Pyro cheered encouragingly as the three racers took off along the straight.

Now, due a seemingly infinite amount of technical difficulties, their previous quarter mile record was eighteen minutes. This seemed perfectly beatable.

"C'mon, RV! You've almost hit ten!" Sniper stared intently at the moving-at-snail-with-digestion-problems-pace needle of the speedometer. The van trundled grumpily alongside the lazily jogging Scout. On the other side, Engy and his truck were making little progress.

Having forgotten about the whole 'Demoman jacked my front door' issue, the Engineer fell out the side twice before being responsible and putting on his seatbelt. By then he had a respectable amount of catching up to do.

"Might have ta' make some modifications…" he thought, putting the interest of breaking the record first of course. Not winning. He obviously didn't care about winning. Nope.

Engy abruptly realised Teddy Roosebelt was riding shotgun, and the wee bear offered up the merc's toolbox.

"Aw, you're the best, Teddy."

Elsewhere, RV drove herself as fast as her old wheels would take her; so averaging around seven mph. Sniper was in the back, making two cups of tea, one of which he gave to the Scout casually hanging off the rear-view mirror.

"This's real borin', Snipes."

"Yeah."

At that very moment, the Engineer's truck shot by, leaving a streak of blue flames.

"I was wrong."

"Yeah."

RV, just fyi, was never fond of losing. In fact, she quite liked winning. The thing she was doing at the moment? Losing. The thing she _wanted _to be doing? Winning.

Long story short that's why she transformed and started running after the truck.

Scout and Sniper didn't really know what to do, so they ran around in circles on RV's head, screaming like they'd breathed in helium.

Back at the base, the rest of the mercs realised they wouldn't be able to see the end of the race, making the stopwatch they possessed fairly pointless. Their only option was to catch up, overtake, and then profit.

Fortunately, there was always the failsafe- bikes! Demo led the way on a tricycle, because he was so beyond drunk staying upright required extra wheels. Spy nonchalantly followed on a custom built unicycle. Pyro had a regular kiddie bike with rainbow tassels and a flowery basket on the front, and behind them Heavy's heavy-duty bike was pulling Medic's 'I'm surrounded by pocket buddies leave me alone' wagon.

They averaged three mph. Downhill.

The Engineer wasn't panicking. Not yet. The smell of burning and wall of flames slowly consuming the truck merely… concerned him. He glanced at the brake, wondering if he should be using it.

"Heck no!" he decided suddenly. "WE AIN'T USIN' NO COWARD PEDAL."

He punched the accelerator, and Teddy threw his paws in the air as the both of them were slammed backward into their seats. Aw yeah, now they're flyin', now they're flyin'!

Seconds later they had to bail out on account of explosive damage.

As RED and Teddy lay there, trying to figure out exactly how they were alive, they were surprised when a massive shadow loomed over them in the shape of a Transformer.

"Hey truckie," Sniper called from way up where, waving pleasantly, "Need a lift, mate?"

And that's how, three miles later, the three drag racers crossed the line on the back of a Transformer, drinking tea and wearing top hats.

"Well…" Soldier blanched. "Not really sure what to think of that…"

Then don't think, Soldier dear, just don't think.

Before long the others arrived in their bike convoy. Spy resembled a ghillie suit more than anything due to the ridiculous number of times he had fallen from the unicycle. Medic had semi-regained his composure, though he _was _giving Prometheus a piggyback.

Pyro announced that, considering they hadn't actually timed the race, they would have to assume they broke the track record. Scout, Sniper and Engy went for the elusive triple-high-five, only to smack each other in the face and fall down with zero dignity.

Ignorant of this, Pyro merely told the mercs exactly what they wanted to hear; the location of the prize.

_Back in the rec room._

This was all very well, but the team were four miles from their base on a blisteringly hot day and they were _tired _dammit. So tired.

Now I could fill the gap with some description.

I could tell you about the clear blue sky, that one chubby cloud stubbornly refusing to follow the trend and just LEAVE.

I could tell you about the dry, dusty ground, pockmarked with a few explosions-gone-wrong craters.

I could tell you about the hazy mirage that was the RED base, slowly appearing on the horizon as they approached, so welcome it could well have cheered 'Ta da!'

But I'm not gonna do that. It isn't that kind of story.

Anyway, the nine of them eventually barrelled back into the base, crashing through the hallways and tripping over flat surfaces in their haste. With a synchronised leap, a lot like some synchronised goal keepers, the mercs dived into the central room.

There it was, on the table. A Mann Co crate. THE Mann Co crate.

The Demoman, thankfully still holding the key, stepped up. This was it; the end, the prize, the success, the 3P1C W1N, the glory, the freakin' hats!

Demo clicked the lock open.

The team gathered to see within.

The author drew out the tension far too much.

The reader screamed in frustration.

The Spy Crab on the ceiling stole your soul.

Then at last, the prize was unboxed.

"Um, Py?" Scout slowly backed up, turning to the flame thrower-wielding merc in question. "That, eh, that's… I can't even say it."

"IT'S A GIBUS." Soldier supplied the sentence rather belligerently. "IT'S A GHASTLY DAMN GIBUS. PYRO I'M GONNA HIT YOU."

Objective to that idea, Pyro quickly airblasted Soldier into the far wall. Still, everyone was pretty pissed about the whole Gibus thing. So they all attacked Pyro.

The moral is, WHY DOES NOBODY LIKE THE GIBUS.

The other moral is, don't make treasure hunts for mercenaries.

Just… keep it in mind. The End.

* * *

**... I would like to apologise for the large number of Deus Ex memes**

**Anyway, I tested these clues on my buddy UkzLewis2Cool, who is demmanding credit for the 'red moob' line**

**So, uh, credit to you :)**

**Right then. Thanks for reading! :D**


End file.
